Category Archives: AJ Hayes

Ropes Over The Rafters (A Whoville Story)

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Listen instead

Hey look, don’t blame me.
The raw material was
already there. In words
carefully crafted.
You chose them with care:
“You know, a bit of adultery,
slippery and wet, just
might make our marriage a much
stronger bet.”
She was your best friend
and I always said
she’d be a real hellion,
a wildcat in bed.
Until today I thought you
meant threesome
or maybe me and her
in our own little twosome.
It never occurred you meant
her in a yousome.
Now that I’ve caught you
I feel like a jerk.
I’ll loosen your nooses when
I come back from work.

Age, Serenity and Mick-Fucking-Jagger

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It’s true, years pass—you lose a step or three.
Colors in the mirror turn from gold to gray.
Places where you used to go never seem to stay,
empty spaces laying where they used to be.

Yet you’re not quite so aged as the oldest tree—
passing perfume’s scent still makes your senses drown
nothing’s quite so lava hot as a low-cut gown,
except the throaty moan of passion breaking free.

Jagger’s prancing on the stage—sweaty, hot and open.
After show he claps his hands outside the exit door
Soon careless breasts and female flesh cover him entire.
He knows he’s just another check on some goupies score.
And you say you wouldn’t want that life. Liar. Liar. Liar.

Surviving

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Listen instead

It’s always hard, the winter.
The wind stiffens my
fingers and I can’t
reach the three keys above
octave that I need
to make the chord.
It’s winter all
the time now.
Seems like it’s
always night too.
But that’s not
the important thing.
The important thing is
I can’t make the chord.
Can’t make that chord.
I’ve been trying for a long time.
Damn house has fallen down.
Porch collapsed
Windows out.
Doors hanging open.
Cold wind rips through
the living room.
I’d really like to play that chord
before the piano falls all down too.
It’s mostly gone now anyhow.
It sits slaunchwise left because
termites ate through the legs.
Mice got to the strings
a few years back.
And there’s snow on the keys.
Just as well, I guess,
just as well that
I couldn’t hear the
chord if I played it.
Maybe you would.
Maybe you would.
Maybe you’d smile.
Wherever you are.
Wherever you go
when you’re dead.
Maybe you’d smile.
I’ll keep trying for that.
For that smile.
But it’s winter and spring
is a long way from here.